


Hope Preserved

by Doranwen



Series: Hope Renewed AU [1]
Category: Born of Hope (2009)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, terminal illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 22:51:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10706808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doranwen/pseuds/Doranwen
Summary: In an alternate ending to the film, Elgarain's life takes a very different turn.





	Hope Preserved

**Author's Note:**

> The genesis of this fic is rooted in my first watching of Born of Hope on April 9 of this year. There is no good excuse for why it took me so long to watch it (it's been out since 2009!) so if you haven't seen it yet, what are you waiting for? Go [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qINwCRM8acM) and enjoy. I'm still blown away by what quality they managed to achieve on a ~$40,000 budget.
> 
> Anyway, I watched it and enjoyed the story… and then I could not get it out of my head (as evidenced by the fact that I had the soundtrack playing nearly non-stop for a full two weeks after seeing the film - the second week was when I wrote this). While the story was clearly designed to focus on Arathorn and Gilraen, the character of Elgarain was outstandingly good (part due to writing and part due to the excellent acting by Kate Madison), and I was drawn to her above and beyond all other characters. Given how much I loved her story, I found her ending unbearably tragic, and wanted to write something where it ends slightly more hopeful (pardon the pun). At the same time, thanks to a line I read of someone's comment somewhere, I observed how the film displayed the common tale of a man falling in love with a blonde with a more simple personality, while overlooking the more complex—and in my opinion, far more interesting—brunette. The challenge, then, was this: how to give Elgarain a better ending, while still remaining as true to the original tale as possible? (I did not want Aragorn to be born of someone other than Gilraen, for instance.) Thus this fic was born, six days ago. As I wrote it, it evolved considerably, so now I'm not sure if I met my original goals! But she lives in this fic, at least? (Perhaps I need to write a sequel to give her a happier ending.)
> 
> In writing this, I had to make several decisions about details that we either know little of, or that are likely to offend some groups of people. For instance, the disease that features in this fic is unknown in the books (and films), yet I think it likely that it existed there as well as in our world. (If you disagree, well, it's central to this fic, so this fic may not be for you.) And if you've made it this far, you'll know I've tweaked **some** aspects of Tolkien's canon to make this work, so if you're an extreme purist, you may not want to read (but if you're **that** much of an purist, why are you reading a fic based on a fan film? lol). As regards to burial customs, while cremation strikes me as wrong in some way for this culture, it **is** canon in Born of Hope, and I could not find evidence of anything contradictory in what we know of the northern Dúnedain (which is near to nothing), so I'm leaving that stand. Possibly the most controversial move I made in writing this is with regards to Dúnedain fidelity to a partner after that partner has died (and sex outside marriage amongst the Dúnedain). If the idea of a Dúnadan sleeping with someone he is not married to after his wife has died bothers you, then click the back button right now. I toyed quite a bit with whether to include that, and finally decided that while it's unlikely Tolkien would have written it, I think it plausible depending on one's interpretation of the culture and characters. If you can handle those premises, I hope you will enjoy reading this. :)
> 
> The soundtrack to Born of Hope was my writing music. If you have not heard it yet, go [here](http://www.bornofhope.com/Soundtrack.html) and download the full score via the album cover (the sample tracks did not work last I checked, so don't go for those). While the entire score is fantastic, certain tracks fit the moods for the scenes I was trying to write better than others, and this fic owes much in particular to "Dorlad's Funeral", "The Dúnedain Prevail", and "Arathorn's Death". "Family Attacked and Saved," "Dírhaborn Takes a Stand", and "The Fight for Survival" were also helpful for writing the battle scenes. "Gilraen Leaves for Rivendell" was part of my writing music for the very last scene, and "Bloodline of the Kings" helped me think of the title. :)
> 
> And most importantly, this fic would not exist if it were not for Kate Madison's vision of a fan film that would be a quality prequel to LOTR, and for all those who believed in that vision and donated time and resources towards making it happen. If one of you are reading this, I hope I haven't slaughtered the story too badly for you! I borrowed lines from the film multiple times, though not always with the same characters speaking them (and often at different times or locations), and the plot necessarily borrows much from the film.

It began as a little thing on an otherwise ordinary day. The men were alternating sword drills and working in the fields. The children were doing any number of small tasks from fetching water for the adults to weeding to minding the littlest ones. And the women were mostly working in the gardens, tending the endless rows of vegetables. Elgarain's back ached as she lifted another jug of water from the creek and headed back to the gardens to give it to those who were watering. Her eye caught Gilraen's progress across the village green. She held Aragorn's hand as he toddled along. Elgarain shifted her gaze to the path ahead of her, but found it wrenched back when she saw Gilraen stumble and nearly fall. The jug of water was unceremoniously plonked on the ground as Elgarain dashed to Gilraen's side. "Are you unwell, my lady?"

Gilraen turned to look at Elgarain. "I'm just feeling very tired for some reason." She let go of Aragorn's hand and he plopped himself on the grass to study a beetle crawling by his feet. Gilraen gave Elgarain a slight smile as she tried to gather her energy.

Elgarain watched Gilraen with a little frown. "Perhaps you should sit down." Gilraen nodded, and Elgarain scooped up Aragorn into her arms before walking with her to their house. Once inside, Gilraen slumped into a chair, and Elgarain examined her with more than a little concern. "How long have you felt thus?"

Gilraen thought for a moment before answering. "Last week I started to feel a little tired, as if I had just worked too hard. I thought mayhap I would have another child. But today it feels as if I have been marching all over Rhudaur."

"I think you need to see the healer," Elgarain said.

"I'm sure it's nothing. Perhaps I haven't gotten enough sleep." Gilraen tickled Aragorn, and he giggled.

"Perhaps." Elgarain accepted Gilraen's suggestion with reservations and left them playing in the house to finish carrying her jug of water to its destination before she rejoined the other Rangers for sword and archery practice.

But when she found Gilraen the next morning, she could tell by the speed at which Gilraen was moving that her level of energy was no better than the day before. "My lady…" she began. Gilraen nodded in agreement to the unspoken message, and Elgarain soon found herself playing with Aragorn while she watched Taurdal's healer, an old man named Saelon, examine Gilraen.

Gilraen explained the lack of energy, without much reaction from the healer, but when he inspected her legs, his demeanor suddenly changed. "My lady, have you bumped your legs a lot recently?"

"No, I don't think so… why do you ask?" The sight of the several large bruises covering parts of her legs startled Gilraen. "What do they mean?"

Saelon paused to think before he answered. "I cannot say for sure. But there is an illness that can strike any age—especially yours—and which is accompanied by weariness and bruising without cause." His eyes were grave as he went on. "I will not say that is what you have yet. If in seven days' time, you are still tired and have bruises, then we will know."

For the next few days, Gilraen's energy was almost back to normal, and she nearly forgot to check for bruises. But by the time Saelon was back to examine her, the fatigue had returned, and several new bruises adorned her legs.

Elgarain entertained Aragorn while Saelon finished examining Gilraen. Her face maintained a happy demeanor for the little boy on her lap, but inwardly she took note of Saelon's expression and grew increasingly worried.

"I can see from your face that you have ill news," Gilraen told him. "I bid you say it, for the forebodings of my heart are as dark as any doom you might pronounce."

Saelon took a breath. "Every sign points to what some call the wasting sickness. It is not very common, but it is the only illness that fits: you are tired often and bruising more easily than you should. If you have not had unexplained fever yet, you will likely experience that soon," he said.

"Can it be cured?" she asked in a low voice.

There was a long silence before he spoke again. "No, my lady."

"How long?"

"It can take many months. As long as you are able to be active, you should try to be; once you take to your bed, you will not easily leave it." His eyes met hers with a sorrowful look.

Gilraen sat for a moment, then breathed deeply. "Very well. I bid you keep silent about this for now; I would tell Arathorn myself."

"It will be as you desire, my lady," promised Saelon as he turned to go.

Soon the house held only the sounds of a giggling boy as Elgarain tickled him. Her eyes sought out Gilraen, who had hers closed and was fighting back tears. A few shaky breaths later, Gilraen struggled to smile at Elgarain. "There is always a chance that he was wrong," said Gilraen hopefully.

Elgarain bit her lip.

"I do not want to alarm Arathorn yet. Let him have a few more days of joy," Gilraen commanded.

"I am at your service, my lady. However…" Elgarain glanced down at the toddler on her lap, "if this is to be, you should spend your time with Aragorn rather than your household tasks. I will do those."

Gilraen nodded, and opened her arms to receive her son as Elgarain deposited him there before beginning on the first task.

* * *

At times it was easy to forget Gilraen was ill. Some days she had enough energy to play with Aragorn, even to cook food and take care of the house. But other days she could do little more than sit in a chair while Aragorn played at her feet, and as the weeks went on, those days were more frequent than the good ones. After the first truly bad day, Elgarain surmised Arathorn had been told the truth, for a pall came over the village that even the pleasure of warm weather could not dissipate. The responsibility for training the Rangers shifted from Arathorn to Halbaron; when Arathorn was not with Gilraen, he was out in the woods hunting orcs with a vengeance. At times Elgarain went with them, but frequently Gilraen asked her to care for Aragorn when she did not have the energy for the toddler's antics.

The first time that happened, Elgarain furrowed her brow in puzzlement. "My lady, of course I will do as you ask, but why not Evonyn or one of the other women? Surely someone with more experience…"

Gilraen smiled a little. "That is why. They have other children to care for. You do not."

And so Elgarain found herself playing roll-the-ball and racing wooden horses. She was in the middle of helping Aragorn stack rocks near the village fence to make a wall when Dírhaborn came up to her. "You have not been on the last two patrols," he said, crouching down to watch the little boy play.

"No, I have not," she replied as she handed Aragorn another stone.

"Why?"

"Because I am needed more here."

Dírhaborn frowned. "You begged for the chance to be trained as a Ranger. You've been the first to every practice, the most determined in every mock battle. Yet now you would give that all up?"

Elgarain looked up to meet his eyes. "I do not give up anything. When I asked to be trained, I was serving our people with what I thought were the best use of my skills. That has not changed."

"Then why are you minding children?"

His voice was more plaintive than Elgarain could take. "Would you have me tell Gilraen 'no'? For it was she who bid me do this."

Dírhaborn was silent for a minute. "Why you?"

"She has her reasons." _As I have mine_ , Elgarain said to herself. She looked up at Dírhaborn and her face softened. "I am truly sorry that I cannot watch your back on patrols as always; forgive me."

He nodded pensively, then wandered off, leaving Elgarain with Aragorn—and her thoughts.

* * *

As the summer progressed, Gilraen became weaker. Eventually she had to be carried to go outside, and spent much of the day propped up in bed. Elgarain watched Aragorn nearly all the time, chatting with Gilraen as he galloped his wooden 'horsies' on his mother's bed.

"I have meant to ask you, what chance brought you to become a Ranger?" said Gilraen. "It is an unusual choice for a woman, even among the Dúnedain, where all must learn to defend ourselves to some extent."

Elgarain smiled a little. "My mother died at my birth, so I was raised by my father. Other women took care of me when he had to be away, but I spent most of my childhood among boys and men, instead of the women and girls. Dírhaborn and I passed many hours with mock sword-fights, particularly when I was supposed to be learning to cook and sew. So when my father died battling orcs ten years ago, I asked to be trained as a Ranger. I knew I would be better suited to the Ranger life than the womanly arts. And I had always loved the forest."

Gilraen smiled at the story. "And the men accepted you so easily?"

Elgarain laughed. "Not at all. The truth is, Lord Arathorn was the only one who spoke in my defense. The others were sure that I would flee at the first battle, or endanger them somehow. But I did not," she ended quietly.

Gilraen watched her for a moment, but asked nothing more, soon changing the subject.

* * *

Elgarain had grown accustomed to the daily routine of caring for Aragorn. She had lived in Halbaron and Evonyn's house ever since her father died, but once Gilraen was no longer able to care for Aragorn, Elgarain moved to stay with him. When she awoke and began the process of starting the fire for the morning meal, she was startled to hear several sneezes from behind the curtain that concealed Arathorn and Gilraen's bed. "My lady?" she called.

Arathorn tied the curtains back to reveal Gilraen wiping her nose with a cloth. She met Elgarain's eyes with a trembly smile.

Elgarain could do no more than match the expression, as Aragorn made the first sounds of awaking and she went to dress him for the day, but her heart was heavy with the sense of doom ever nearer. As she played with her charge in the summer sun, its warmth did little to warm the fingers gripping her heart. She was near the doorway when Saelon emerged. His eyes were compassionate as he looked upon the little boy in her arms. "What does today bring?" she asked quietly.

"So far only a mild illness, but she is not hale as she once was; it could easily become lung fever. If the cough has not left her within a fortnight…" he didn't finish; his eyes said what his mouth could not.

She nodded and carried Aragorn in to greet his mother before eating breakfast. By unspoken agreement, they did not talk about Gilraen's health, despite her blowing her nose several times from her bed. When they finished, Arathorn asked to take his son for a few minutes, leaving Elgarain with his wife.

Elgarain gazed at Gilraen's wan face for a few moments. "Can I bring you something to drink?" she asked.

Gilraen shook her head slightly. "Evonyn brought over some tea this morning to help soothe my throat, but thank you. I think I shall rest a spell."

Elgarain helped her lie back and drew the curtains to block out much of the light. "Sleep well, my lady."

* * *

Within days Gilraen's cough worsened. She developed a strong fever, and asked Elgarain to not bring Aragorn to her anymore. At night, her cough persisted, so much so that Elgarain was asked to take Aragorn with her to sleep at Halbaron and Evonyn's house. The villagers began to drop by the house one by one; many left with tears in their eyes or on their cheeks.

A few days after that, Elgarain was shelling peas as Aragorn drew a stick in the dirt at her feet. She glanced up to see Dírhael and Ivorwen entering Gilraen's house. Arathorn stood outside, looking lost. Her heart wrenched, but she continued with her task. Some minutes later, Ivorwen crouched down, inviting Aragorn into her arms. Dírhael cleared his throat. "She asks for you," he said, his voice thick.

Elgarain set down her basket of peas and made her way to the bedside of the woman she had once envied. "What is it, my lady?" she asked, reaching for Gilraen's pallid hand to clasp between hers.

Gilraen's breathing was somewhat labored, but she was able to speak with some pauses. "I would bid you promise me something."

"Promise what?" Elgarain's eyebrows furrowed as she tried to guess.

"Promise me that you will take Aragorn as your own son, to raise him."

"My lady…" she trailed off, bewildered.

"I would ask you to guard him with your life."

"Of course. But—why me?"

"Because you will always be able to put him first. Because I have seen how he loves and trusts you. And because you will love him, not only for his own sake, but for his father's." Elgarain stared at Gilraen, who smiled a tiny bit and coughed before continuing, "I have seen your feelings for Arathorn, though he is yet blind to them."

"Forgive me, my lady…"

"It does not matter," Gilraen whispered. "Men do not handle loss well; he will need you, even if he does not know it now." She took a few more breaths, punctuated by a coughing fit. "He must continue to have hope for our people. I would have you do whatever is needful to be sure that despair does not beset him."

Elgarain could not speak, but squeezed Gilraen's hand. She swallowed hard.

"Promise me this, so I may sleep in peace." Her voice was insistent despite the difficulty in each breath.

"I promise, my lady. Aragorn will be as if he were my very own; I will die before he is harmed. And… I have always loved Arathorn. I will be there for him, no matter what."

Gilraen smiled tiredly. "Then I can rest. But first, I would see my son again."

"Of course." Elgarain walked to the doorway and looked out. Ivorwen was showing Aragorn a pretty rock she had found. She glanced up to see Elgarain. "She asked me to bring Aragorn to her."

Ivorwen nodded, blinking back tears as she lifted Aragorn into her arms. "Here, I will hold your pretty rock. Your mama wants to see you."

"Mama?" he asked as he was passed to Elgarain.

She stroked his fine dark curls. "Yes, your mama would like to see you one more time. Let us go to her."

"Here is your son, my lady," she said as she sat herself down at the edge of Gilrain's bed, placing the toddler next to her.

"Hello, little one," Gilraen whispered.

"Mama sick?" he asked.

"Yes, mama's very sick." She coughed a little before getting enough breath to speak again. "I will not see you grown, nor the kingdom restored. So Elgarain will have to be your mama, and mayhap she will have the good fortune to see these things." She took a few more breaths. "I love you so very much, _iôn nîn_."

"I will make sure he knows that always," Elgarain said softly.

Gilraen could only smile a little. "Arathorn," she whispered in between breaths.

"Say goodbye to your mama, Aragorn. You will not see her again." Elgarain helped the little boy give his mother a kiss on the cheek, then lifted him to her hip. "Farewell, my lady. I will miss you." She squeezed Gilraen's hand one last time before wrapping the other arm around Aragorn. This time when she emerged from the doorway, blinking back tears, she sought Arathorn. "She is ready for you, my lord," Elgarain said in a low voice before setting Aragorn down to play.

* * *

It was several hours before Arathorn reappeared. His eyes were reddened and bleak, and he said nothing. Halbaron approached, but received only a nod from Arathorn, who sank onto the bench outside, looking around aimlessly. Halbaron turned to Evonyn and tilted his head toward the house. With one eye on Aragorn's drawings in the dirt, Elgarain watched Evonyn and several other women go inside, while Halbaron and several of the men began to gather wood for the pyre. She turned to the little boy. "Come, Aragorn. Let us find some sticks to use in the fire." He happily abandoned his drawing stick and clung to Elgarain's hand as they walked to the edge of the forest.

That evening found the entire village gathered around a wooden bier. Gilraen's body lay on top, wrapped in the sheet from her bed. When the last rays of the sun sank below the horizon, Halbaron lit the first torch and proceeded to light the others. Arathorn clasped the first one and looked upon her still form for several minutes. "Farewell, my love," he said finally, laying the torch on the bier.

Elgarain found herself transported back in time as she watched Dírhael and Ivorwen also lay their torches on the bier bearing their daughter's body. In some ways it seemed like yesterday that she stood across the fire from them, watching Gilraen turn to Arathorn as her brother's body burned. And now… Aragorn shivered a little in her arms, and she wrapped the furs closer around him. He stared at the flames, wrinkling his nose as the smell grew stronger. They seemed to entrance him, and the light from the fire flickered on his cheek. Slowly his eyes closed, and his head gradually fell against her neck. Her arms tightened instinctively about him as she watched the blaze consume the shell of the woman who gave him life.

She watched the pyre burn down slowly, and her arms began to ache. They had grown used to Aragorn's weight but to carry him for hours was more than she was ready for. "Shall I take him?" Evonyn asked her quietly. "They will be here for several hours yet."

Elgarain nodded with a whispered thank-you as she relinquished the sleeping child, and continued to watch. When the pyre finally burned out, Arathorn took out a carved wooden box and began to gather the ashes and fragments of bone that he could. Halbaron held a new-lit torch for light to see by. "My lord?" she called softly.

Arathorn turned a questing look at her.

"Will you bury her right away?"

His forehead wrinkled a little. "I had not decided. Do you have counsel for me?"

"I do. It seems to me that Aragorn will remember little of this, and will have naught of his mother but a few trinkets. When he is older, and asks about her… It would be good to have it set aside, to do with then."

Arathorn nodded. "Your words are wise." The box, once filled, was carried off to his house, and Elgarain returned to her bed, where little Aragorn lay sleeping. Her exhaustion and the few tears that had escaped her eyes combined to weary her greatly, and not long after her eyes closed, she drifted into slumber.

* * *

The strangest part of the next day was how ordinary it felt. Waking up with Aragorn beside her, helping gather the kindling for the next meal, helping him eat breakfast… Each time she remembered that Gilraen was no longer in the next house, it felt as if she were walking down a path in the woods only to find it disappearing into a thicket with no sign of a trail at all.

She saw little of Arathorn as she helped with harvesting some early vegetables. Aragorn had grown to accept that his mother was not often available, so it wasn't till that evening as they walked to Halbaron and Evonyn's house that he tugged her hand towards Arathorn's house and asked her, "See mama?"

Elgarain smiled sadly and knelt in front of him. "We cannot see your mama anymore. She has died." Aragorn, predictably, did not understand, and Elgarain soon found herself holding his hand as she walked up to the house where she had spent so many hours. "Lord Arathorn?" she called.

He opened the door slowly. "There is no need for such formality. You are family now."

She ducked her head in acknowledgement. "Aragorn wanted to see his mama. He does not yet understand. I thought I would show him…"

"Go ahead." He gestured to the interior of the house and walked outside.

"See, little one?" she told him. "She is not here anymore. She cannot come back."

"Mama!" he cried, coming perilously close to a wail.

"Shh," she soothed. "I will be your _naneth_ now. Your mama knew she could not take care of you anymore, so she asked me." She kissed the plump cheeks and led him back outside.

Ivorwen passed by as she emerged, then paused. "I can take him to live with family now. We have the room in our home," she offered to Elgarain, who opened her mouth to answer.

Arathorn spoke before she could. "It was Gilraen's wish that Elgarain raise Aragorn. I will not gainsay her in this."

Ivorwen stared at Elgarain for a few moments before nodding briefly. She continued toward her house, leaving Elgarain and Aragorn standing in the doorway.

"What did she tell you?" she asked Arathorn after a bit.

"She said she had chosen his next mother."

She could think of nothing to say in response, so turned to the toddler whose hand still rested in hers. "Come, the hour draws late, and the sun will soon set. It is time we must rest." This time Aragorn did not resist her leading, and they crossed the grass to Halbaron's house. But Elgarain found herself looking back at Arathorn.

* * *

Elgarain lightly caressed the curls on little Aragorn's head as he drifted into a deep sleep. "I'm going out for some fresh air; do not wait for me," she told Evonyn, who was tidying the last few things in the house before the family went to sleep. Evonyn returned her statement with a brief nod, and Elgarain wrapped her cloak around her shoulders and stepped through the doorway into the cool evening air. The gentle breeze and the feeling of being outside once more calmed her spirits, but her mind was still unquiet. For so many times she had dreamed of being the wife of the Chieftain, yet this particular situation had never manifested in her mind. How was she to raise this child? Not for the first time did she wish her own mother had lived.

She glanced out over the village as the remaining small noises of people moving about settled into stillness. One figure alone was yet present as well: Arathorn sat on the bench outside his house still, staring across the fields blankly. Elgarain found her feet moving toward him. He glanced up enough to recognize her out of the corner of his eye, but otherwise did not acknowledge her presence. She sat quietly next to him and leaned her head back against the walls of the house, looking up at the stars emerging as the last rays of sun vanished.

There was silence between them for the longest time. Finally, Arathorn spoke. "I had always thought that she would live longer. Being Isildur's Heir… It never occurred to me that **I** might outlive **her**."

Elgarain shifted her head to watch him by the moonlight, but said nothing.

"Do you know the last words she said to me?" He glanced over at Elgarain. Receiving only a shake of Elgarain's head, he continued, "She said, ' _Ónen i-estel Edain; ú-chebin estel anim._ "

"'I gave hope to the Dúnedain; I have kept no hope for myself,'" Elgarain translated softly into Westron.

Arathorn nodded, dropping his head into his hands. His next words were muffled. "I feel the same. When my father died, she—" he paused to swallow hard, lifting his head again, "—she asked me where my joy and hope were." He turned away from Elgarain, but not before she caught the sight of a tear threatening at the corner of his eye. "Where indeed?"

"Aragorn is strong and healthy," Elgarain said. "There is still hope."

"Perhaps."

"I swore to guard Aragorn with my very life, my lord." Arathorn turned to meet Elgarain's eyes. "She asked me to promise to care for him as if he were my own son. I will not fail in this," she told him with a steady gaze.

Arathorn dipped his head with a twist of his mouth that in happier days might have been called a smile, then returned to staring over the fields. "Yet hope without joy is a bitter path," he said quietly after a moment.

Elgarain steeled herself and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then you should not walk it alone."

Arathorn stilled for a minute before speaking. "She asked that I consider you, after she was gone."

Now it was Elgarain's turn to freeze. Her hand burned where it rested on his shoulder.

"I do not understand," he said, making no move to look at the woman next to him.

"Perhaps," said Elgarain, choosing her words carefully, "it was because she knew of my love for you." Her hand trembled, but she did not move it.

"My heart was buried with Gilraen. Do not wait for what will never come," he warned her, eyes still trained on the faint shapes of the fence posts, silhouettes against the black sky.

"I do not, my lord. I accepted this long ago." She pressed her lips together before continuing. "So I do not offer my love to you, since you neither need nor want it."

Finally, Arathorn turned his head toward hers, searching her eyes with his.

Elgarain closed her eyelids briefly, then looked fully into his face. "I would offer my comfort instead." She dropped her hand from his shoulder and wrapped it around his own hand. She maintained a firm grip as his eyes began to blink, then close in a vain attempt to restrain the tears. "You are not alone," she whispered to him as they began to trickle down his cheek.

The night air was soon punctuated with the occasional shuddering breath as Arathorn cried silently. He blindly laid his other hand over hers and squeezed, clinging to her hand as if it were a rope on which he dangled from a cliff. After what felt like an eternity, his breathing slowed and he withdrew his hands from hers to wipe at his eyes.

"You need to rest," Elgarain said.

"I cannot," he admitted. "I lie awake for much of the night." He tightened his cloak around him and looked up at the stars.

She took a deep breath and raised a hand to rub his back. At the first touch, his head whipped around to face her again. "I would offer you comfort," she answered his unspoken question. "I do not expect anything in return."

"I cannot take that from you." His voice was stern, but she was not daunted.

"I offer it freely."

He sighed. "Elgarain… Someday you will wish to marry—"

"I have only ever wished to marry you, my lord. When it became clear that was not to be my fate, I accepted that I would not marry at all."

"You may yet change your mind—"

She interrupted him again. "No, I will not. Have you forgotten Aragorn so swiftly? Until he is grown, he is my charge. He must always be first in my life, for the sake of all of us." She inhaled slowly and released it before continuing. "And he needs a father who is well-rested. Let me give that to you."

Arathorn looked at her for a long moment. When she finally stood and reached out her hands to him, he took them and followed her inside.

* * *

Elgarain waited till Arathorn was sleeping before she pulled on her clothing and wrapped her cloak around her for the short trek back to her lodging place. Fortunately, the few sentries they always had on duty were watching the woods away from the village, or her actions would have been public knowledge far too quickly. Her mind reviewed the events of the evening; had she done the right thing? Was it the wisest path? She found no ready answers to her questions, and it was many minutes before she was satisfied with what she had done and could relax to sleep.

The next morning seemed ordinary; she took Aragorn with her and Maia as they gathered sticks to replace the kindling used in cooking breakfast. The little boy was proving adept at spotting sticks to add to their bundles, and they had just finished collecting what they needed when Dírhaborn emerged from the trees.

"Elgarain, I must speak with you." His face was blank, but it was the tone of voice that sent Elgarain's heart beating a little faster in dread.

She turned to Maia. "Would you take Aragorn back to the village? I'll carry our sticks back." She waited, watching their safe journey back before turning to Dírhaborn. "What is it?"

"Have you no shame?"

She steeled herself. "What do you mean?"

"You could not wait three days for Gilraen's body to be in the ground before you bedded her husband? What hold does he have over you that you would behave thus?"

His voice had risen steadily throughout, and Elgarain winced at the volume, hoping no one was nearby. "You do not understand," she said evenly.

"Then explain to me, because I do not know the Elgarain who could do this."

She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them to look into his face. "I do not do this at my own bidding."

Dírhaborn's eyes registered shock and confusion. "He did not force you…?"

"No." She shook her head. "Lady Gilraen asked me to be the mother of his son—and to do whatever was needful to keep him from despair." She looked away for a moment. "I **know** I will never have his love. I do not long for it now, truly; my heart holds too much sorrow. But he needs me. Can you understand that?" Her eyes sought his, pleading.

Dírhaborn studied her face for a long moment. "I can," he said, subdued, "but I fear this path will only lead to more grief."

Elgarain smiled, a little sadly. "Such has ever been the companion of my life." She lifted the bundle of sticks and walked back to the village as Dírhaborn stood watching her.

* * *

Elgarain's life settled into a new pattern. By day, she was the mother to an active two-year-old. By night, she slipped into Arathorn's house to provide what comfort she could. At least once she caught Evonyn's speculative gaze on her, but hoped that her actions would not be discovered too quickly.

One afternoon, she had taken Aragorn with her to see the few horses in the pasture. The sound of leather and metal reached her ears, and she looked over to see Dírhaborn leading a horse, laden with full packs. "You are leaving?"

He glanced up from the path he had been studying on the ground. "I was going to look for you, to bid you goodbye. I have asked for the Ranger post at Hithlin."

"Hithlin?" she asked, staring at him in shock. "But it is so far."

A wistful smile lurked at the corners of his mouth as he answered, "Yet I have long felt the desire to serve in a greater way. Arathorn needs eyes and ears in distant lands, and I wished to be away from the village for some time."

Her eyes softened. "I will miss you."

"And I you," he replied. He looped the horse's reins loosely around the top rail of the fence and framed her face with his hands before leaning in to kiss her forehead gently. "May all be well with you until we see each other again."

She smiled. "Safe journey, my friend," she said, and watched him leave.

* * *

Elgarain knew that her secret trips to Arathorn could not remain such forever, but she was still startled to walk out of his house only to spot Ivorwen returning from the privy. The other woman stared at Elgarain for a moment, who bowed her head and continued back to Halbaron and Evonyn's house. As she sank into bed next to her charge, she found sleep much harder to achieve. There was little chance that Ivorwen would keep such knowledge to herself; it was only a matter of how it would be received by all.

There was no shock, then, the next day, to find herself on the receiving end of more than a few stares. She tried her best to ignore them, going through the usual routine with Aragorn as if nothing had changed, but the whispers were unsettling, and she dreaded the conversations that were sure to happen. The afternoon did not disappoint.

She had left Maia playing with Aragorn for a minute while she went to a storage shed to collect a basket, but suddenly found her way blocked by Dírhael. His eyes bore into hers and his frame loomed over her as he said, "Scarcely a week after my daughter dies, and you would take her place?"

Elgarain shook her head. "Not so, my lord," she countered. "None could possibly take her place, even if it were to be tried. For the lady Gilraen was without peer in grace and beauty, and she will long be missed by all."

Dírhael said nothing, crossing his arms.

"Aragorn will not remember his mother of his own memory, but I will make sure he hears of her love for him each day. She will not be forgotten." Elgarain held her breath, letting it out slowly when he suddenly dropped his arms to his sides and walked away from her.

That evening she gathered up her things once more to take to Arathorn's house. Evonyn came into the house while she was placing hers and Aragorn's clothes into a bundle. "You will dwell with him in front of all?" the older woman asked.

Elgarain sighed. "Everyone knows that we have been… together, and it is simpler for all concerned. Aragorn should be with his father, anyway. It will make little difference to the gossip."

Evonyn's face was unreadable for a moment, but she smiled a little and opened her arms. Elgarain found herself sniffling as she was embraced, and a soft voice whispered in her ear, "I do not pretend to know why you are doing what you are, but I believe you have good reasons for it."

Elgarain smiled through her tears. "Thank you for your faith," she whispered back.

* * *

The last weeks of summer were as busy as ever; patrols came and went, and crops began to be gathered in. The rigor of the work was broken up by the occasional entertainment as the village gathered in the hall. On one such evening, the best storyteller was recounting a tale of the kingdom of Arnor in its strength. Elgarain sat near Aragorn, who listened with rapt attention, though he surely understood little. As the story went on, his eyelids began to close, and she gathered him onto her lap. A movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention; one of the sentries had slipped in the door and was whispering something to Arathorn. His face revealed little as he got up quickly and left. Elgarain glanced down at the toddler in her lap, who was finally sound asleep, and slowly got up. Aragorn would not wake now, and carrying him to bed made for a good reason to leave—and perhaps figure out what was happening.

At the door of the house, she shifted Aragorn's weight in order to have an arm free to open the door. She stared at the forms of two elves. "Lords Elladan, Elrohir," she murmured in greeting, ducking a small courtesy before she headed back to the bed where Aragorn slept.

"For this reason our father sends grave counsel," one of them said.

"What is this counsel?" asked Arathorn.

"He urges you to send your son and his caretaker to Imladris for safekeeping, and for you, Arathorn, to lead the Dúnedain by secret ways to other lands, and flee this encroaching danger."

Elgarain glanced up from where she had just situated Aragorn, startled. Go to Rivendell? Some of the patrols had been there, back when she was with the Rangers, but she had never been senior enough to go with them, much to her dismay. But now… she had to admit that part of her wanted to stay with Arathorn. Not only did she long for his presence, but how could she encourage Arathorn from afar? Yet of the two things Gilraen had asked of her, the more important task was that of safeguarding Aragorn. And if the two were at odds with one another, she had to choose Aragorn first and foremost.

She rose from the bed and entered the main area again. Arathorn smiled at her, then turned back to the elves. "It is late my lords, we will speak further in the morning. Let us find you somewhere to rest." He led the elves out as she prepared for bed. When he returned, he was pensive as he removed his cloak and boots. "It seems I should send you and Aragorn to Rivendell," he said finally.

"It is not safe here?" she asked.

He pressed his lips together. "They brought word of orcs increasing north and east of Taurdal, more than have been seen for many years."

Elgarain dropped her eyes from his and studied her hands. "Then Aragorn and I should go; he would be better protected in Rivendell than I could do for him here."

Arathorn put out the fire and finished undressing for bed. "Their words are wise indeed, but I find myself loath to send you away," he said as he reached for her, the last words to be spoken for some time.

* * *

A shout rent the silence of the night. "To arms! To arms!" A few moments later, it came louder and nearer. "The forest… the sentries… fighting to delay them… Orcs everywhere!"

Elgarain startled awake, recognizing the voice of young Halbarad, as Arathorn leapt up and began to pull on his clothing and boots in lightning haste. She began to do the same, frantically yanking a shirt over her head. Arathorn grabbed his sword and turned back to look at her from the doorway. "Go!" she shouted. "Aragorn will be safe, I swear it, now go!"

He vanished through the doorway and she was left to contemplate her options. She grabbed her sword and peered out the doorway into the gloom. Should she take Aragorn to the hall? The sounds of battle were everywhere, and she decided the risk was too great; holding a child, she would not be able to swing a sword. She thanked the Valar that Aragorn had not woken from his slumber, and took up position by the doorpost, back to the wall and her sword at the ready.

She did not have long to wait; a great foul form loomed in the doorway, and she swung hard. The first orc went down swiftly, but soon others followed. The minutes that followed were a desperate dance of ducking, thrusting, and slashing. Orc blood splashed her boots and her leggings reeked of it. The bodies began to pile up in the doorway, and she was grateful for the limit to the number of orcs she could face at once.

As one orc approached, she suddenly heard a little voice behind her, " _Nana_?" Her concentration faltered for one terrible moment as she glanced sideways to see the little boy standing there. A blow struck her leg, and she cried out, sinking to the ground. When she looked up, the sight that met her eyes was that of an orc sword swinging toward her—which she had no hope of blocking in time. She had time only to think, _Forgive me, Gilraen_ before the fatal swing, when the orc suddenly froze mid-strike, toppling over.

A sword withdrew from the back of the corpse, and the features of Halbarad became visible. "Lord Arathorn bid me aid you if I could."

Elgarain smiled, a little shakily. "I thank you. Would you guard the doorway for a moment?" She withdrew inwards, lowering herself to a chair, and tore a strip of cloth from her undershirt to bind her wound as best she could. "Aragorn, _Naneth_ needs you to go back to your bed now," she told her charge, who stood only a couple feet from her.

" _Nana_ hurt?"

"I will be fine as long as you go there and **stay** there," she answered, hoping she was telling the truth. She breathed a sigh of relief when he retreated to the corner, though he appeared to keep watching through the darkness as she staggered back to her feet and rejoined Halbarad. "Stand there," she pointed, "and watch for orcs coming from that direction." She knew he had some skill with weapons, as all boys had, but he had not yet begun the Ranger training that would teach him how to best make use of the space around him in defense. Her wound ached but she dared not falter yet.

Halbarad, though still young, proved to be an effective fighter, even with multiple orcs besetting them at once, and each enemy that approached met a swift end. The last orcs that came at them suddenly turned and fled, and Elgarain closed her eyes for a moment in relief when she saw Arathorn run past, delivering a killing blow to an orc who was too slow in catching up with his fellows. He strode over to them. "How do you fare?"

"Aragorn is safe, my lord," said Elgarain, sinking onto the chair as the exhaustion and pain caught up with her.

His eyes grew wide with alarm. "You are injured!"

"It is only a gash."

"Still, it must be seen to. You know the filth that befouls the orc weapons," he reminded her.

"Lord Arathorn!" called Halbaron from outside.

"I am here," he called back.

"Mallor asks for you, my lord; come quickly!"

Arathorn turned back to Elgarain. "Have Saelon tend this wound without delay," he commanded.

She nodded, watching him leave and then looking up at Halbarad, who was visibly drooping. "You did well," she said. "You fought bravely and defended your battle partner. You will become a good Ranger." He smiled at her words, straightening a bit in pride. "Now, can you help me to the hall? Saelon will no doubt be there." She turned to the corner. "Come, Aragorn, we must go to the hall." The little boy came to clasp her hand, but Halbarad had to lift him over the bodies of the orcs lying around the door of the house.

With Halbarad's help, she managed to hobble to the village hall, where a fire was already going strong and torches held up for the women who were washing out wounds and stitching them closed. Aragorn clung to her good leg at the sight of the commotion, and it took some coaxing to pry his hands loose and settle him next to her on a bench.

Before her wound could be seen, Arathorn appeared in front of her. "Mallor fell," he said in a low voice, "and the sentries to the north and east, save for Halbarad." His eyes were haunted and sorrow shone from every facet. Elgarain reached an arm out, wrapping her hand around his. "How many more must fall?" he asked. "How many?" He surveyed the room, taking in the crying children, women—and men—weeping over bodies of loved ones… "Too long the servants of evil have ravaged our people, and this once-proud Kingdom of Arnor." He squeezed her hand back and released it before walking outside to the group of Rangers standing there.

"Men of the West!" he began. "The Shadow grows longer, and its cruel arm reaches ever toward us. But we cannot lose hope. A time will come when the Dúnedain regain their strength, and banish evil from these lands forever. Until then, we have a duty to safeguard our people at all cost. So, arise, Dúnedain! Remember who you are! Let our enemies once again flee before us! And let no orc leave this forest alive!" The men cheered and left to do battle. Arathorn instead strode inside, kneeling in front of Aragorn, who had his head half-buried against Elgarain's shirt, wrapped against her with one arm. He wiped his hand on a slightly cleaner patch of his leggings and gently stroked his son's soft curls. He met her eyes. "Thank you."

"Then you must thank Halbarad also. Without his aid…" She could not finish, the memory of the fear gripping her tongue.

Arathorn clasped Halbarad's hand between his own. "My family is in your debt, lad. I would ask you to stay with them until I return." He looked back to Elgarain and Aragorn. "I will come back, I promise." His form swiftly retreated through the doorway, and Elgarain gazed after the direction he had gone until the pain of cleansing her wound caused her eyes to blur with tears.

* * *

The morning dawned misty and cool. Elgarain lay on a cot, her leg elevated to reduce further blood loss. Aragorn snuggled into her, and Halbarad leaned wearily against a wall, resting. Children took turns acting as sentry, while the other lads Halbarad's age dragged orc bodies into a pile for burning. A few of the women cooked breakfast for the village; others wrapped sheets around the dead.

Evonyn carried a bowl of oatmeal over and sat next to Elgarain. "Are you hungry?"

"No, but I will eat." Elgarain rubbed Aragorn's shoulders. "Auntie Evonyn has some breakfast for you, little one. Shall we eat together?" Slowly she eased them both into a sitting position, ignoring the throbbing pain in her leg, and alternated spoonfuls between their mouths. She glanced outside again. "It is so long since they left."

"They will return," Evonyn reassured her.

Elgarain tried to smile. "I hope you are right."

A few more bites of oatmeal were deposited onto tongues that barely tasted it, before indistinct shouts could be heard. Evonyn took the bowl from Elgarain's outstretched hands and set it on a nearby table.

"Help me to the door," Elgarain commanded.

"You should not be walking on that leg; you heard Saelon earlier," Evonyn pointed out.

"Halbarad!" Elgarain called. The dozing youth came to with a start. "Help me outside."

The growing commotion seemed to penetrate his sleep-fogged mind, and he leapt up to act as a crutch. Evonyn sighed and came to Elgarain's other side, reaching a hand for Aragorn.

As they progressed to the door, the shouts grew louder. "The Lord Arathorn is hurt!"

Ivorwen approached them. "I can hold Aragorn," she offered.

Elgarain nodded, and Evonyn, freed of her burden, locked hands and arms with Halbarad to better carry Elgarain outside.

The sight that met them sent a dagger through Elgarain's heart. Elladan and Elrohir, along with several Rangers, bore a bier with Aragorn's body toward them. Multiple wounds dotted his body, and one eye was completely covered with a blood-drenched cloth. "Has he spoken?" she asked, sinking to the ground and resting her weight on the knee of her good leg.

Halbaron answered her. "Only Aragorn's name—and yours."

"Elgarain?" he said in a weak voice.

"I'm here. I'm here!" she said, reaching for his hands.

He cracked open his remaining good eye, smiling a little at her. "Here is my joy," he whispered.

Elgarain's eyes filled and began to spill down her cheeks.

Arathorn turned to look to the other side of the bier, where Ivorwen had set Aragorn down on the ground. "And there is our hope," he continued, a little louder.

Ivorwen gently pushed Aragorn towards his father as Arathorn extended the hand with the Ring of Barahir. She helped him slide the ring off Arathorn's finger and he studied it curiously.

"Aragorn, Chieftain of the Dúnedain!" Arathorn pronounced. Through her tears, Elgarain watched his eyes close for the last time. She closed her eyes also and sobbed.

* * *

Elgarain limped to the shelf where the box with Gilraen's ashes were kept, and carefully lifted it down to the table, where another similar box held Arathorn's. She was in the process of wrapping Aragorn's few clothes around them when the sound of footsteps at the door caught her attention. She gingerly turned around to avoid twisting the wound, and her eyes widened slightly upon seeing Ivorwen standing there.

"You are going with him?"

Elgarain nodded, stuffing the boxes and clothing into a pack. "I promised your daughter I would raise him as my own. And now… I don't think I could bear to be parted from him." She looked out the window once more, reassuring herself at the view of Aragorn playing with Maia.

Ivorwen studied her face for a long time.

Elgarain turned, feeling the gaze. "What is it, my lady?"

Ivorwen's answering smile was bittersweet but her words soft. "I am glad my grandson has you. Take good care of him for me." She enfolded the younger woman into a swift hug and released her, turning and walking back outside.

Unable even to return the hug, Elgarain stared at her retreating back in shock. Her contemplation was interrupted by one of the elves. "Are you ready?"

She nodded, motioning to the packs lying on the table with hers and Aragorn's belongings. "The packs are ready, and my quiver and arrows are hanging over there next to the shelf with my sword on it."

He swiftly gathered the items and beckoned her follow him outside.

Three horses stood by the house, readied for the journey. A crowd gathered near, and Maia led Aragorn over to Elgarain. Evonyn followed behind and gave Elgarain a large hug. "I will miss you," she said to Elgarain.

Elgarain sniffled. "I will miss you too. And you," she said, hugging Maia. "Aragorn will miss his playmate."

Dírhael emerged from the crowd to lift Aragorn up and tickle him before setting him back down. His eyes grew somber as he looked at Elgarain.

"My lord?" she asked after a moment.

He opened his arms and she found herself stumbling into them. "Fare well, daughter," he whispered before grasping her shoulders and pushing her gently toward the horses.

She blinked, watching him go, then felt a tug on her hand. " _Nana_?"

"Yes, _iôn nîn_." She smiled down at him, blinking again. "It is time to go."

Halbaron helped her onto the horse and lifted Aragorn up to her.

Elgarain sat him in front of her, then called to him. "Halbaron? Would you let Dírhaborn know where I am?"

"Of course, my lady."

She sniffled once and picked up the reins. "I am ready," she said to the elves, who mounted upon their horses in unison.

As her horse took the first few steps that would lead her away from the only home she had ever known, she took one last look back. Evonyn and Maia waved, and she held Aragorn so he could wave back.

She settled him back against her. "Shall I tell you a story, little one?"

"Story!" Aragorn said excitedly.

"This story is about your papa and mama. For you will not remember them soon, so I must remember for you." She wiped her eyes. "So if you remember nothing else, remember this: your mama was a very brave woman, and your papa was a very great man, and they both loved you very, very much."

**Author's Note:**

> In case it wasn't obvious, Gilraen developed leukemia, which made her vulnerable to pneumonia. "Lung fever" was an old name for pneumonia, but I had to make up the name "wasting sickness" based on some of the symptoms of leukemia (lack of energy, loss of weight, etc.). Credit for the sequence and accurate medical details goes to the posters on LJ's little_details community; one in particular was extremely helpful and I owe the completion of this fic to them (any inaccuracies are mine).
> 
> I would have liked to get this betaed due to its length, but alas! few of my friends have seen Born of Hope, and all potential betas (whether canonical or otherwise) are too busy to beta anything. So I hope that there are not too many errors.
> 
> Looking over this, it occurs to me that some may find Elgarain's lack of agency in this fic off-putting. It was not my intention to write her thus, but a natural outgrowth of the theme of life taking paths one does not expect or desire. In the end, **none** of the characters have things go quite the way they would have chosen, and they have to choose priorities for the present time which often contradict their true desires. If I get to writing the other two fics that would be in this series (for which I have a vague summary of events outlined but no betas to help plot out), I think her story will end up a lot more interesting.


End file.
